The Fog of Dreams

by Justin Bell

  ********

  Louisa coaxed the two-shade blue cruiser up the incline of the dirt road and brought the vehicle to a stop as she saw Charlie stand from his resting pose on his own police car just up ahead. The day was bright and the sun looked down upon them already. It was looking to be a beautiful day?you know, if you could overlook the whole corpses laying in wet dirt thirty feet away thing. Louisa brought her window down as Charlie approached.

  "Morning, Charlie," she said, squinting behind large, mirrored sunglasses. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid which draped over her left shoulder, clad in the pale blue of the Norwood Police Department.

  "Chief Gutierrez," he replied, nodding with respect, albeit a curt and remarkably unfriendly nod.

  "Any updates?" Louisa asked, tipping her sunglasses down further on her nose.

  "Nope. Still dead."

  She supposed that somewhere buried deep within Charlie Buck's psyche there was a part of him that meant this as a joke, but on the surface it just sounded pithy.

  Louisa let her gaze drift to the right and past where her deputy stood, her eyes settling on the two story tan house just a short distance away. "Who lives here?" she asked.

  Deputy Buck turned his head quickly, almost as if he hadn't even been aware that a house was behind him. "Oh, that's the Strickland place," he said briskly.

  "Anyone talk to him yet?"

  "Nope."

  Louisa turned back to look at him, curiosity furrowing her brow. "Really? Why the hell not?"

  Charlie looked suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes darting quickly to his left and glancing back over his shoulder. He returned to her gaze, his lips pinched. His demeanor was like that of a student asked a question in class that he should know the answer to, but didn't.

  "Never mind," Louisa almost barked, "step aside, Charlie, I'll go talk to him myself."

  Charlie did step aside, but did not do so silently. "You'll want to stop and talk to him first," he said. The Police Chief followed where he was gesturing and saw a man in a dark suit standing next to a long four-door car. He looked somewhat out of place among all of the people wandering around with windbreakers.

  "Why would I do that?" she asked.

  "Just trust me on this, Chief, okay?"

  Charlie was suddenly the opposite of his rude, bristling self, and seemed genuinely concerned with her potential course of action.

  "All right."

  The driver's side window brought itself upwards as the Norwood Chief of Police's car pushed forward, tires digging through soft dirt and grass. It came to a rest just behind the sedan, and the driver let herself out.

  With a glance, the man in the suit cast his eyes backwards, narrowing behind his own pair of mirrored sunglasses. His hair was blonde and trim, his face clean shaven, and Louisa could tell he was solidly built underneath the thick black cloth of his suit.

  "Excuse me?" she asked, approaching the man, her right hand resting on her belt, just above her gun holster. "Do I know you?"

  The blonde-haired man smiled broadly and with charm, showing white teeth. "Name's Richard Grace. You must be Chief Gutierrez." He took a couple of long steps forward, extending his right hand. They shook, but Louisa didn't soften her hard-edged glare.

  "Nice to meet you. Care to tell me what you're doing on my crime scene?"

  Grace's smile didn't falter, but Louisa sensed a sudden tenseness in the air. An almost imperceptible shift from approachable relaxation to defensive abrasion.

  "I'm sorry, Chief Gutierrez, I didn't mean to offend. Deputy Buck knows me well."

  "Good for Deputy Buck."

  This time Grace's smile did falter. It slowly eased down into a straight grimace, his eyes narrowing further. "As I said, my name is Richard Grace. Agent Richard Grace."

  Now it was Louisa's turn to tense up. "Agent? As in??"

  Grace pushed his hand into his coat and retrieved a folded leather wallet, then flashed it open to the unsuspecting Chief of Police. "Agent Richard Grace. Department of Homeland Security." He returned the folded leather to the inside pocket of his jacket. "And I'm sorry to say I'm not on your crime scene. You are on mine."

  Louisa didn't back away. Instead, she glanced past him at the green truck just beyond. "Care to tell me what the State Department of Wildlife has to do with a Homeland Security investigation?"

  "I'm sorry, Chief, but that information is classified."

  Gutierrez removed her sunglasses and looked Grace squarely in his blue eyes. "Excuse me?"

  "I'm sorry. This situation falls under the federal jurisdiction of the Department of Homeland Security, and I must insist that it remain that way."

  The Chief glanced back towards Deputy Buck who was watching the exchange, and appeared to have the slightest twist of a shit-eating smirk on his face.

  She returned to look at Grace, but did not soften her stare. "I am the Chief of Police here, Agent Grace. I appreciate your position, but I have a right to know what's going on in my backyard."

  "Of course. I have fully briefed Deputy Buck, Ms. Gutierrez. He can fill you in."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Oh, I am very serious. We have two dead bodies here, Chief. It doesn't get much more serious." Grace pushed his sunglasses up, fully covering his eyes, and straightened slightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

  He started to turn, but Louisa extended a hand and clasped it on his shoulder. "No, I'm sorry, but I won't excuse you."

  Grace turned, his cheeks flushed. "Ms. Gutierrez, please release me."

  "I am the Chief of Police here, Mr. Grace. If something is going on in my town, it goes through me, not through my Deputy, do you understand me?"

  She lifted her hand from his shoulder and relaxed slightly, and Grace softened, just a little.

  "Understood."

  "Good. So has anyone spoken with Mr. Strickland?"

  The corner of Grace's mouth twitched. Gutierrez thought it was a subtle twitch, not one that many would have noticed. But not many backwoods Vermont town sheriffs had spent several years in Quantico.

  "Mr. Strickland is under our watchful eyes," Grace replied. "No one with the Norwood Police Department is to speak to or approach him."

  "I suppose my Deputy approved of this as well?"

  "Yes. As did your predecessor before his?untimely dismissal."

  Louisa scowled. She'd heard many things about the last Chief of Police, and not many of them had been good. Was this just another secret handshake agreement that had gotten him escorted out of town?

  "I'm going to need something more concrete than some invisible agreement."

  Grace tightened his mouth. "We are all on the same side here, Chief."

  "You know, I'm not so sure we are."

  There was a moment of tense silence as the two stared at each other, a battle of wills that Louisa Gutierrez was certain she'd lose, at least when it came to political leverage. She didn't like what was going on here, and especially didn't like that it was going on in her town, but she thought that if push came to shove, Grace would be able to dig up some legal authority. It reeked of backdoor politicking, but most likely not illegal backdoor politicking. Believe it or not, there was a difference. Still, something hairy was going on here, and she wanted to know what.

  "Agent Grace, I know we're just both trying to do our jobs. Just please, in the future, keep me appraised of anything that impacts my town, okay?"

  "Fair enough," Grace replied, and the warm smile that he began with slowly started to reform on his face.

  "Is there anything the Norwood Police Department can do to assist?" Chief Gutierrez asked, using all of her powers of restraint to keep her voice even and honest.

  "I don't believe so. You'll be the first to know."

  "I appreciate it."

  Louisa returned to her cruiser and slid back in behind the wheel. She sat there watching the man in the suit as he slowly walked away, then she let her gaze drift to the tan h
ouse. On the second floor, she could see the slight separation of window blinds and knew that whoever this Strickland was, he was watching them.